


Love and Lechery in the Leaves

by Flossie



Category: Naruto
Genre: Drama, F/F, F/M, Humor, I made up some character names to fill in the gaps, I'll add relationships as they're mentioned, M/M, Multi, Soap Opera, compulsory heterosexuality, everyone's fucking everyone's wife, first great ninja war, mito has concubines, mito has lesbian moms, sorta canon compliant, the canon timeline is kinda fucked up so this one is too, tobirama marries a child but not in a creepy way
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-23
Updated: 2018-08-06
Packaged: 2019-06-15 00:08:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15400620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flossie/pseuds/Flossie
Summary: Senju Hashirama is a young, sexy, strapping shinobi. He met his first love at the age of ten and never thought he'd have to look elsewhere. But he receives a horrible shock when he learns that his lover is the heir to... Hashirama's rival ninja clan! What's worse, Hashirama has a meddling younger brother that knows just a little too much.***Buckle up for a Konoha founders soap opera! Hints of kink but no sex scenes :)





	1. Hashirama

**Author's Note:**

> I'm experimenting with just showing some slice-of-life scenes and having a "narrator" voice fill in the gaps? Hopefully it kind of works.

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_Our story starts in an era nothing like our own, on a bloody battlefield in central fire county. Our protagonist is a child of no more than ten, the heir to a fierce ninja clan. His name is Senju Hashirama, and he has fine, straight brown hair cropped tight to his face and suntanned skin. He wears a headband bearing the symbol of his clan, a loose kimono shirt and a hakama. His dark eyes are full of melancholy, as his life has always been marked by death. He has been on the front lines since the age of six, and made his first kill at the age of seven. Even at ten, he sports dark circles under his eyes. He has not yet learned how not to cry and in that, he is a disappointment._

_He also has a dark secret. And that secret has a name: Madara. Madara is a ninja boy of roughly Hashirama’s age, with whom he enjoys skipping rocks. Madara has dark eyes, dark, coarse hair, and pale skin. His features and the black kimono he wears suggest to Hashirama that this boy may be a member of the Uchiha clan—the clan the Senju deem to be their deepest enemy. Hashirama had watched as an Uchiha with similar coloring to Madara slaughtered his young brother Itama just months before. However, our young protagonist puts all of that baggage aside, for there is something about his playmate that irresistibly, inexplicably draws him in…_

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Hashirama approaches the water with a spring in his step, hoping to “run into” the small dark-haired boy that often played here. And it’s just his luck—there is Madara, standing on the other bank. Madara can’t skip a stone to save his life, even though the flick of his wrist suggests that he might have very different luck with a shuriken. This gives our protagonist a very silly idea.

  
Hashirama steps to the riverbank and sends a small rock flying. On the third skip, it bounces so high that it hits Madara right around his belt. And Hashirama’s suspicions are confirmed as a couple shuriken fall out of his kimono and clatter to the floor.

“Hey! Look where you’re skipping those!” Madara shouts across the bank. He leans down to collect the stars, but Hashirama runs across the river and stops his hand with his own.

He grins at his playmate. “I had an idea! What if you practice with one of these?”

“You’re crazy.”  
Hashirama looks down, his shoulders drop. Madara’s words always had a way of cutting him a little bit too deeply. “I am?”

Plus, Hashirama has noticed that Madara hates seeing him sad. Usually, if he performed enough, Madara would immediately—“Fine, I’ll try it.”

Victory. “I just thought you might find the rocks a little intimidating,” he said with a bright smile. “The throwing stars might be more your speed,” he finished, ducking just in time to dodge the shuriken Madara had lobbed right at his face.

In time, however, practicing with the throwing stars proves to be a good idea. Madara’s grip is more sure with the familiar weapon, and after a few tries he’s able to get it to cross to the other bank. When he succeeds, Hashirama is overcome with a feeling he can’t quite put a name on. He isn’t used to having fun, he isn’t used to having friends. Even the games he plays with his brothers and clansmen center around war:  “Uchiha & Senju,” “Capture the Hostage,” “Mafia.” But with clan-shall-not-be-named Madara, he’s able to just… be a kid, a kid who isn’t at war. And more than that, he feels completely comfortable around him. Emboldened by his teaching breakthrough, Hashirama decides to make another risky move and tell Madara a secret.

“Hey Madara.”

“What, Hashirama?” Madara’s eyes always looked bored, but his voice betrayed his interest.

“Do you want to hear a secret?”

“No.”

“I have this dream… that ninja don’t have to always be at war.”

“That’s insane.”

“No it’s not. Imagine if my— I mean, imagine if the two _most powerful clans_ allied. No one would be able to stand against them, it would be like a stale mate! And you can’t fight people during a stale mate!”

“How is that peace?”

“Isn’t the lack of war, peace?”

“What happens if another clan were to get strong enough to challenge your magical marriage?”

Hashirama couldn’t answer that question. But he was really glad to have gotten it off his chest. His arms moved without him thinking, and he embraced Madara. “I don’t know!” He exclaimed, “but don’t you think we could figure it out?”

Madara fought him off. “What do you mean we?”

Hashirama gave him a searching look. This kid wasn’t stupid. If Hashirama, a whole ten-year-old, suspected that Madara was an Uchiha, there was a good chance Madara had figured out he was a Senju. So there was no need to put on airs. “I mean… we?”

The question was left dangling, as Madara declared that it was late and he had to go back home.

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_The two boys met like that often, even as they grew into new responsibilities, including killing each other’s kinsmen. Once, when Hashirama was fifteen, his father found out he was meeting with an Uchiha. When Hashirama defied his father’s orders never to see the boy again, his father put his youngest son Kawarama’s life on the line to “teach Hashirama a lesson”. After that, Senju Hashirama and Uchiha Madara had to meet in secret._

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“Hey, ototo, I need you to cover for me.”

“Why should I?” Tobirama, Hashirama’s stubborn albino younger brother, crossed his arms.

“Because I’m your big brother and you love me?” No dice. “Because I covered for you when you snuck out of our security detail to get some sweets from a street vendor in lightening county?”

It seemed Tobirama understood the concept of tit-for-tat, because he relaxed his posture. “How long are you going to be?”

Hashirama looked up thoughtfully, shifted his weight between his two feet. “Can you buy me an hour?”

“Half an hour.”

“45 minutes?”

“Fine.”

Hashirama ran off, his kimono billowing out behind his awkward, lanky, adolescent body.

He met Madara under a waterfall, who greeted him with a gracious “you’re late.”

“Tobirama?” Hashirama offered by way of explanation.

“You need to train your brothers better if you expect to lead your clan,” Madara scolded.

Hashirama just grinned. “I don’t think he’d take too kindly to that…”

Madara shrugged it off. “Anyway. You, uh…” He blushed bright red and looked at his feet, which were too big for his body. “…Promised me something?”

“Right,” Hashirama smiled, the blood in his neck pumping with an excitement he’d never felt before. He got down on his knees and undid Madara’s kimono.

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_Eventually, our fine young protagonist did succeed his father, when Butsuma was killed by Madara’s younger brother Kasshoku. Madara similarly succeeded his own father when Tajima died of eating some rotten fish._

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“What the FUCK are you doing?” Tobirama shouted, loud enough to wake the entire Senju camp.

Hashirama and Madara scrambled to cover their bare bodies in blankets, but they could do nothing to cover the scent that evidenced what had just occurred in Hashirama’s private quarters.

Tobirama raised his fingers to the bridge of his nose in a show of frustration. “Hashirama, I think it’s time we get you a wife,” he said, holding eye contact with the waifish enemy tangled up in his brother’s tan legs.


	2. Mito

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which things get fairly lesbian fairly quickly

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_Uzumaki Mito is a princess, aged 21. She was raised as far from the battlefront as possible by her mothers, the queens of the Uzumaki clan. Although she was not taught to fight, she has been diligently studying the arts of sealing and healing, arts that have been passed down through the women of her clan since time immaterial. She is strikingly beautiful, with pale skin, dark red hair, and black eyes. She has cosmetic scars which resemble whiskers on her cheeks, scars which were given to her in ritual after her birth. She bears the mark of 100 healings on her forehead, and a faded tattoo of her clan’s symbol, a spiral, under her left eye. She is not the kind of presence that takes “no” for an answer. But then, neither are any of the Uzumaki women._

 

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Princess Mito was sitting in front of a mirror, getting dressed. By her servants. Three women were putting her hair into two neat buns on either side of her head, one was painting her face white and her lips red, and four servants were wrapping many layers of patterned red-and-white kimono around her slim body.

“Excuse me, Mito-Hime.” A messenger, dressed in a simple red-and-white kimono, enters the large sitting room.

Mito looks up from her reflection, moving nothing but her eyes. “Talk.”

“The Senju have arrived.”

Mito closes her eyes to let her servant better paint her eyelids. “Tell him I will be at least an hour more.”

“Yes Milady,” the servant bows and hurries out.

 

In the courtyard of the Uzumaki manor, Mito’s mothers Kichijoten and Daikokunyo welcome Hashirama and Tobirama.Both women are tall and imposing, standing eye-level to Hashirama on their stilted sandals. Kichijoten is wearing a black, high-collared garment with the crest of the Uzumaki on the chest. She is heavyset, with short wavy hair. Daikokunyo is slender, her red hair so bright it hurts the eyes. She wears her hair in a tidy bun at the back of her head.

 

“Thank you for thinking of our daughter, Mr. Hashirama,” Daikokunyo bowed.

“We are looking forward to allying our clans,” adds Kichijoten.

Hashirama and Tobirama bow politely back, and then head off to look for food.

 

“Those two women! They’re married?” Tobirama hisses into Hashirama’s ear when they’re out of earshot. Both Senju are flushed and confused.

“You didn’t tell me she had two moms!” Hashirama whispered back.

“I wouldn’t have asked the Uzumaki for a wife if I knew they did this!”

“Imagine what Father would think,” Hashirama stammered, realizing he would have to present this woman to his entire clan. “Is… Are people going to be OK with her?”

“Probably! It’s better than you fucking an Uchiha man, at least with you and her it’s still a proper marriage… oh shit! Here they come!” Tobirama shoved a dumpling into his mouth and tried to look natural as the Uzumaki women approached them again.

 

“You’re uncomfortable.” Daikokunyo stated. She addressed Hashirama: “You have no reason to be.” Then, to Tobirama: “You’ll just have to get used to it.”

Kichijoten snickered behind her kimono sleeves. “Honey, leave them alone,” she said to her wife, smiling.

“They need to know.” Daikokunyo said in her steely tone of voice. Then cracked a smile.“I’m kidding, I just wanted to see the look on the white one’s face,” she laughed.

Tobirama’s eyes widened, and if possible, his face got even whiter.

“You Senju are so stuck in your ways. Don’t worry, Mr. Hashirama, I’m sure your brother will come around some day.”

 

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_The wedding went off without a hitch. Hashirama and Mito barely said a word to each other, going through the ceremony as strangers. They were a beautiful couple, both dressed in the richest fabrics their clans could afford. After dinner and dancing, the couple were ushered into Mito’s bedchamber, as is customary._

 

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Hashirama undid the ties at his neck and his waist the second he entered her room. “I am so _exhausted_ with all this _formality_ ,” he complained, kicking off his sandals and hopping onto her neatly-made bed. “Hey wait, where are you going?”

Mito left the room through a back door, and shortly reappeared with five women each wearing nothing but a thin silk kimono. “These are my concubines,” she said matter-of-factly.

Hashirama’s jaw nearly hit the floor.

She looked at him, confused at his surprise. “Does your clan forbid you from polyamory?”

“Polyamory?” Hashirama parroted.

Mito smiled. She felt bad for him. “These are my concubines? As in, my lovers? I thought I would invite them in tonight because… well…” Mito flushed, showing emotion for the first time since meeting her husband. She looked at the floor, shoulders tight. “…I thought you might think it’s fun?”

Hashirama’s honey-brown eyes opened even wider. “I-I think I’d like t-to spend my first night with you alone, i-if that’s okay??” he stammered.

“Oh, okay…” she replied, her tone betraying her embarassment. She showed the women back out the door and approached Hashirama. She shed the many layers of her wedding kimono, took out the pins and seals in her hair to let its wavy lengths loose down her back. She wiped the makeup off her face with the back of her hand. “There is… uh… one more thing you should know.” She said, shooting Hashirama a coy look.

“Which is?”

She shed the last layer of her kimono, and sat next to her husband on the bed. “I don’t really like to be on the receiving end of getting fucked.”

 

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_The night is long. Hashirama’s wood style and Mito’s sealing jutsu do not go to waste._

 

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“Would you guys _please_ knock it off?” Tobirama whines as he adjusts his armor. “Our scouts are literally already _in combat_ with Uchiha shinobi down at the valley of the end.”

Mito giggled as Hashirama played with her boobs. He was half-dressed, wearing his base layers and wrist guards but not his breastplate.

“HASHIRAMA, PLEASE.” Tobirama cries, shaking the room. When that doesn’t work, he uses a weak water style jutsu to shoot a stream of water right in the middle of Hashirama’s face.

This backfires, as the water drips onto Mito’s white kimono and Hashirama makes some comment about it being see-through, starting to make out with her all over again.

“Fine, I’m leaving. But don’t get mad at me when I kill Madara!”

Madara? That’s apparently enough to get Hashirama’s attention, because he looks away from Mito like a dog that’s just seen a squirrel. “Babe, who’s Madara?” she asks.

“Rival clan leader,” Hashirama says stiffly.

“They’re fucking,” Tobirama clarifies.

Mito’s eyes light up. “Ohmygod, babe, I can’t wait to meet him!”

It takes a second, but it clicks. Polyamory. Uzumakis. Right. “We’re… kind of at war, though,” Hashirama admits. “So it’d be pretty dangerous.”

“This is the guy you keep talking about allying with!” Mito recalls. “So, baby. Why don’t you go beat him into submission for me, and when you’re allied, then I can meet him.”

Hashirama puffs out his chest. “I will do just that!” He dons his armor and follows Tobirama out to the battlefield.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in which i fill u up with my headcanons on the uzumaki clan! in which things get very lesbian indeed! mito's mom's names are ripped from some japanese buddhist goddesses, according to wikipedia


	3. Madara

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Hashirama's two lovers meet...

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_Madara Uchiha is a surly man at the age of 23. He’s seen enough death and trauma to last a lifetime, and it shows. He is the leader of the Uchiha clan, and possesses a rare ocular power called the Mangekyo Sharingan, which only awakens in Uchiha of great chakra who have watched their best friend die. Madara has seen his best friends die, all four of his younger brothers taken by Senju shinobi far before their time. He wears his coarse black hair loose, it covers his right eye and cascades down his back in tangled locks. His skin is pale despite the constant sunlight in Fire county. He wears muted shades of black and blue, with a steely gray breastplate. The only bit of color he wears is the red Uchiha fan on the back of his high-collared robe._

 

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“HASIRAMA!!” Madara yells, drawing out every syllable of his lover-slash-mortal-enemy’s name. He wields a scythe and a gunbai fan, waving both wildly to ward off the sprigs of wood Hashirama sends towards him. The battle is not going his way today. Hashirama still has a brother left, and that makes him stronger. Madara knows this, and he resents it. “Today,” he declares, “this battle will truly end in life or death. If you love your wife, you will cede to the Uchiha now, and save her life.”  
Hashirama smirks back at him. “Are you jealous?”

Madara has never been jealous in his life. Ever. He infuses as much chakra as his body can handle, and activates his mangekyo sharingan. A blue skeleton appears around him, and as quickly as the bones spring up they are wrapped by muscles and skin and finally armor. The ghostly figure stands many stories high, with Madara perched atop its long nose. “No, HASHIRAMA, of course I’m not jealous!” he calls down from the Susano’o.

Hopping left and right to avoid Susano’o’s sword, Hashirama finally gets enough down time to collect senjutsu energy. Marks appear on his face below his eyes, and a target appears on his forehead. He weaves some hand seals to produce a wooden golem that stand’s at the Susano’o’s height, and at least twice its weight. Hashirama, standing on the golem’s round nose, leans against its brow and laughs. “Mine’s bigger!”

Madara hates Hashirama’s beautiful laugh. He hates how it ripples out from deep inside the man, how it infects friends and enemies alike. He especially hates how it brings back memories of their childhood, when he and Hashirama were able to meet up and gossip about their clans without minding to the pressures of war. With an angry roar, he has Susano’o swing its blade at the wood golem, brimming with intent to kill.

 

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_The rest is history—Hashirama and Madara fought for twenty-four hours before Madara’s back hit the ground. Madara agreed to ally with the Senju on the condition that Hashirama kill himself or his brother, but when Hashirama held a kunai to his own stomach, Madara answered the call of his heart and backed down, agreeing to the allegiance with both Senju brothers intact. The story of that fight would become one of the most-told stories across all the five counties for years to come, and both Hashirama and Madara would win the title of gods among men. The Uchiha-Senju allegiance would eventually lead to the strongest ninja village ever built. But first, some things in Madara’s personal life had to be sorted out…_

 

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Madara lay on the battlefield, his chakra all but expended, barely able to move a limb. Hashirama kneels next to him, kunai knife still in hand. “Thank you,” whispers Hashirama into Madara’s ear. “Thank you for sparing my life.”

“Please,” Madara whispers back, “take me to your tent. I don’t want anyone to see me cry.”

Hashirama nods discreetly and then stands, turning to the crowd of disarmed Uchiha and Senju gathered. “All of you, go back to your families. Spread the word of the alliance. War is over.” And with that, he lit a smoke bomb so no one could see him carry Madara of to his quarters.

 

Upon entering the tent, Madara started to cry. Not just a few tears streaking down his cheeks—ugly crying. Crying the likes of which he had never done in front of anybody, not even Hashirama.

Hashirama set him down on his bed, then sat next to him. He looked into Madara’s dark, tired eyes. He reached out his hand and wiped a tear away, then held Madara’s face and leaned in for a kiss. Madara’s heart fluttered as he reciprocated, kissing his boyfriend through the tears and the snot.

At length, Madara pulled away. He wiped his eyes with his sleeve, smearing dirt and dried blood across his face, causing Hashirama to giggle. “Stop laughing,” Madara muttered miserably. He took off his armor and his black robe, setting them in a neat pile in the corner of Hashirama’s tent. He splashed his face with water from a canteen, and did his best to clean off the grime of battle. Hashirama followed suit, hanging his armor and outerwear in its proper location.

“Here, hand me the bottle.”

Madara did, and Hashirama washed his face as well, the senjutsu marks finally fading away. He replaced the canteen on the floor, and then the two of them crossed back to the bed, sitting side-by-side.

“So, Hashirama,” Madara said, leaning into his boyfriend and raising one of his feet to rest on his own knee, “you’re a married man.”

“That I am.”

“Then why did you kiss me?”

Hashirama told Madara all about the Uzumaki and their concubines and Mito’s support of their relationship.

Madara looked at the floor with sad eyes. “I just don’t think I can do it, Hashi.”

“What do you mean?” A laugh. “It will all be fine!”

“I don’t want to be a married man’s second choice,” Madara growled, his pupils flashing red.

Hashirama put his hand on Madara’s shoulder, but he shook it off. “It’s not like that, I promise. You’ll see.”

“What do you mean I’ll see?”

Hashirama turned away sheepishly, flushing red. “She’s on her way here as we speak. I— I promised her she’d get to meet you…”

Madara fell backwards onto his back, glaring at the ceiling. How was Hashirama always able to make matters worse?

 

Not a moment late for her cue, Mito opened the flap of the tent and flounced in. Madara sat up to look at her. Her traveling kimono was simple and refined, a vibrant shade of dark blue with the pattern of whirlpools woven in. Her face was painted with only a bit of bright red lipstick, and her dark red hair was held in a loose bun at the back of her neck. Two sealing tags dangled from her waistband.

“Hello, boys!” She announced, and, in a grandiose gesture, wedged herself right in between Hashirama and Madara on the bed. She put her arms around them, and greeted each with a peck on the cheek: “Hashirama! This victory took longer than I expected! …And you must be Madara, I am absolutely honored to make your acquaintance!”

Madara sat there stunned. Never before had a woman just come up and… _touched_ him like that. It was absolutely disrespectful, he decided, and he would never stand for it again. So he stood, throwing her arm off of him. He put his hands on his hips and declared, “Hashirama, I want nothing to do with your _wife._ ” He spat out that last word. “And I want nothing to do with you, either.”

“B-but, Madara-no-danna, we have treaties to write! And a village to build!” Hashirama called in protest.

“FINE!” Madara shouted, “Then I want nothing to do with you outside of seeing you in a very professional capacity as my allied former enemy! Good day to you sir!”

He stomped out of the tent.

 

Hashirama watched him go. “Don’t worry, he’s just being dramatic,” he said to Mito.

She dropped her hand from his back as well, and studied his face. “You look like you’re about to cry.”

“He’ll be back any minute… He’s just being dramatic…” Hashirama whispered, quiet tears already starting to fall from his eyes.

Mito rubbed his back and kissed his neck. “I’m sure you’re right, honey.” Took a deep breath. “I’m sure you’re right.”

 

“I’M SORRY I FORGOT MY ARMOR” Madara said, way too loudly, as he re-entered the tent. His pale cheeks were bright red and he was doing his best to not look at either Hashirama or Mito as he gathered up his belongings, which kept falling out of his hands.

Mito got up at once. “Do you need some help?” She offered, catching one of his wrist guards as he dropped it.

“No I don—” Madara’s protest caught in his throat when his hand accidentally brushed Mito’s. He felt a warm, healing chakra extend from her hand into his, and the sensation left him speechless. His heart and his breathing slowed to match hers. After a long moment, he pulled away. “What was that?” he asked, his voice much softer now.

Mito looked at him seriously, then shrugged. “Hidden jutsu. Uzumaki are healers.” She kicked his left leg with hers, in a spot he’d injured during today’s battle. “Should be good as new.”

“I don’t need your help,” Madara replied, but the protest was empty. His eyes were full of wonder, and absolutely locked on the woman.

“I know you don’t.” Her ability to hop between serious and playful was almost terrifying. “Now, I know you technically have dibs on my husband. Which is fine. All you ask is that you don’t get in my way.” Leaving the threat hanging in the air, she walked past Madara and left the tent.

 

All of Madara’s belongings clattered to the floor as he stood there weakly, trying to process the whole experience. He turned and stared at Hashirama, who was grinning.

“Ain’t she something?” He said, leaning back on his hands and beaming. “I’m so glad Tobirama made the mistake of picking her.”

“You let Tobirama pick your wife?” Madara stated in disbelief.

Hashirama just shrugged the question away. “So, what do you think?”

Madara sat down next to Hashirama. “She is beautiful,” he whispered.

“I knew you’d like her!” Hashirama slapped Madara’s back. “Now, _Uchiha_ , it’s time for you to take your goddamn pants off and give your man what he came here for!”


	4. Tobirama

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Tobirama gets a wife!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is a shorter chapter! I got started late, and anyway, it felt like a good place to end. I didn't feel like writing a third scene <3 but I promise I will bring back the drama in the next episode!

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_It takes a few years of negotiating and fundraising and building, but Hashirama and Madara have established the first-ever ninja village. Tobirama is now 24, and itching to do more for the village. He’s grown his white hair a little longer, and let Mito tattoo red marks on his cheeks and chin. She said it made him look fierce. He, alongside Madara, is now acting as advisor to Hashirama and Mito. However, he’s not satisfied with his job, or his coworker. In fact, he’s not satisfied with a lot of things…_

 

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“News about our village is spreading, anija.” Tobirama and Hashirama sit on the cliff overlooking the village, and the forest where you can see no end.

“Good news I hope?”

“Yes— the Sarutobi and Shimura clans want to join.”

Hashirama’s jaw drops in amazement. “I could never have imagined—!”

Tobirama pouts. “And they both have offered me… a wife.”

“A wife!? Isn’t that amazing news?” Hashirama smiled and nudged his brother. “It’s been a while since you’ve gotten some, if you know what I mean!”

Tobirama knows what he means. “Theres a problem, though.”

“What?”

“The Shimura girl is only 7, and the Sarutobi girl is 12.”

Hashirama brings his hand to his chin in thought. “Well, it is more of a ceremonial gift than anything else. You don’t have to—”

“You don’t _understand_ , anija. I _am_ lonely. You make fun of me for it, but it’s really hard for me to watch you go and show your hole to any passerby you find kinda cute while I have to cover for you! You know the clan elders would not approve of your and Mito’s behavior, let alone the feudal lord.” Tobirama huffs. “We need their support or this village will tumble. Simple as that. We need the Sarutobi and Shimura as well. So, unlike you, brother, I’m going to actually make a _sacrifice_ for this damn village and accept the Sarutobi’s wedding offer.” He shoots Hashirama a dirty glance. “And I’m actually going to be faithful to her.”

 

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_Sarutobi Otoko remembers the horrors of war only faintly. She was three when her eldest brother was killed in combat, and after that, her family kept her locked away in a temple. She has long, dark-brown hair and olive toned skin. She is small and slender, and has not yet gotten her menses. On her wedding night, she is wrapped in a thirty-layered kimono, wearing fabrics from all over the known world, in all decadent jewel tones and creamy whites. Her hair is done up in an elaborate bun atop her head, and she wears a hairpiece shaped like the Sarutobi crest. She is a political gift, and from this day forth she will be named Sarutobi Konohamiko, after the village she is being given to. She has been told that her compliance will guarantee peace for her clansmen, and for the world. She doesn’t comprehend what that means, but she obeys. It’s all she’s been taught to do._

 

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Tobirama and Konohamiko were holding hands when they entered Tobirama’s bedchamber as husband and wife, but dropped each other the second the door was closed behind them. They had not yet even exchanged a word of conversation outside of the scripted responses of the wedding ceremony.

“My name is Senju Tobirama, and I am 23 years old. I like cats and trying different flavors of green tea. I dislike when my feet get cold. My brother is kind of a disaster, so my job is to make sure the village runs smoothly despite him. I am pleased to make your acquaintance and I hope to serve you dutifully as your husband,” Tobirama blurted suddenly, bowing awkwardly to his prepubescent wife.

Konohamiko blushed and bowed back. “The honor is mine. My name is Sarutobi Konohamiko and I am 12 years old. I grew up in a temple, so I don’t really know what I like to do besides pray… but I know that I dislike prayer. My job is to serve you diligently as your wife.”

“Would you like a cup of tea?” Tobirama stammered, unsure of how best to treat the situation.

“If it pleases you, Tobirama-no-danna,” she said, and shuffled over to a low table.

Her movements looked incredibly constricted in her wedding dress. Tobirama berated himself for not thinking to offer sooner—“Ms. Konohamiko, would you like to take off your wedding kimono? I won’t look.” He turned his back to her in deference.

“If it pleases you, Tobirama-no-danna.”

“No! Konohamiko, I don’t mean it like that, I promise. I just meant… isn’t it uncomfortable?”

“Oh… yes, it actually is.”

“You can wear this instead,” Tobirama suggested, tossing her a dark blue cotton shirt and pants, and then turning his back on her again.

“Thank you.” She sounded relieved. Tobirama waited for a few minutes as he heard her struggling with all the fabric. Then came the request that he’d been dreading. “Um… Mr. Tobirama… would you be able to help me take this off?”

Tobirama couldn’t ask a maid to help her, because if the Sarutobi elders found out he wasn’t taking his new wife in the proper manner, it would be a great disrespect. He grit his teeth and took a deep breath, then turned around. What he saw was a twelve-year-old girl helplessly tangled in a huge pile of fabric. He smiled at her. “Of course, Ms. Konohamiko,” he said gently as he helped her out of the elaborate garment. and into his battle clothes.

“Now, this is a special green tea,” Tobirama explained to Konohamiko, pouring her a steaming cup from his teapot. “The leaves are from a plantation in Iron County that’s been tended by samurai for thirty generations. I’ve added some dried peel from a citrusfruit that only grows in the Land of Waves, because I think it compliments the flavor wonderfully.”

She took a sip, and smiled at him appreciatively. “It’s good, Mr. Tobirama!”

“Thank you, Ms. Konohamiko,” he smiled. “Now, do you know any games? Checkers or cards maybe?”

She shook her head. “Those were not allowed when I was growing up.”

“Let’s start with Go Fish, then,” Tobirama said and picked up the pack of cards on the table, shuffling them deftly from hand to hand. Maybe this marriage wasn’t going to be the worst thing that happened to him, after all.


	5. Toka

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mito has a secret admirer, and something bad is brewing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the short hiatus! I'll try to get back to uploading new chapters every day haha

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_Senju Toka is a kunoichi Hashirama’s age. She is average-height, and beefy. She’s taken her fair share of hits fighting on the front lines during the warring states era, and her tan skin is marked with the scars. She’s missing about half of her left ear and her collarbone never healed quite properly from when Madara’s demon fox sent her flying off the cliff that would become Hokage Rock. Still, she walks tall and keeps her hair done and her face beat, never willing to sacrifice her femininity for her ferocity. She had been Hashirama’s right-hand man once he became leader of the clan, an honor she earned with her prowess in genjutsu and taijutsu. To her dismay, Hashirama dismissed her in favor of Madara when they founded Konoha. She doesn’t plan on forgiving him for that._

 

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“Hey Tobs, how’s the kid?” Toka asked Tobirama, at their weekly secret meetup to discuss Uchiha threats. This week they were hiding out in a bakery on the outskirts of town.

“You don’t have to call her that,” Tobirama replied, through a mouth full of challah.

“Well, then, how’s your twelve-year-old wife?”

“Ms. Konohamiko actually just turned thirteen.”

“…Does that make it better?”

“Guess not.”

Toka yawns. “Enough with the small talk. I’ve been doing some snooping around the Uchiha. And I gotta tell you, something smells fishy.”

Tobirama chews on the bread, considering this. “We received a communiqué from Inoino Yamanaka, but Madara didn’t let me see it. The Yamanaka and the Uchiha were on-and-off allies during the war. If they’re planning on challenging us for the village… well, with their talents in gengutsu and psychic techniques, they might’ve already won.”

“No, they haven’t,” Toka waved her hand dismissively. “Unlike our darling idiot Hashirama, I can sense an illusion before it’s cast.”

“That’s amazing,” breathed Tobirama. “Really?”

Toka smirks. “How do you think a cousin from my branch of the family rose so high in the ranks?”

Tobirama shrugs. Dips some bread into the jelly on his plate.

“Anyway, it’s not going to be the Yamanakas. I’d know. Anything else suspicious going on at the capital?”

“Hashirama wants to let Madara handle passing the three-tails to the Mizukage, but I talked him out of that. Meaning that Hashirama and I will both be away next weekend…”

“…Leaving Madara in the village unprotected?”

“Bingo.”

“God, I love you, Tobirama. You’re sure you gotta stay faithful to the little girl?”

Tobirama sets down his handful of puffy bread. “Yes, Toka. I made a promise to Hashirama, to the Sarutobi clan, and to Konohamiko. It’s my duty to stay faithful to her.”

Toka smacks Tobirama upside the head. “You haven’t touched her, right?”

He gives her a look. “I’m a good man.”

“Like fuck you are,” she laughs. “Well, just holler my name when you change your mind.”

Tobirama shakes his head, finishes his loaf of challah. Washes it down with a cup of tea. “You’ll guard the village while I’m away?”

“If you give me a kiss!”

“No.”

Toka watched Tobirama’s broad shoulders in his tight-fitting turtleneck and his adorable bubble-butt and his strong legs as he stood and left the table. One of these days, she told herself. One of these days…

 

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_On the agreed-upon date, Toka cloaked herself in an illusion and waited on a roof not far from the Hokage’s office. She could see in the windows, but she could not be seen. She watched as the Senju brothers packed up for their trip to the Land of Water to deliver the three-tails to the Mizukage. She was surprised when Hashirama passed over Madara to give his wife Mito the proverbial “keys to the castle.” He kissed her, and told her to take care of the Hokage duties while he was gone. She was even more surprised when he kissed Madara. Kissed Madara and told him to take care of Mito. And with that, the Hokage and his brother left the village._

 

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“Come out, Senju.” Mito Uzumaki leafed through the paperwork littering her husband’s desk. “Woman, 5’5”, using a genjutsu. Reveal yourself.”

Toka decided it was best not to run. Mito would understand, as she had the best interests of the village at heart. So, she dispelled her genjutsu, hopped across the street, and let herself in to the Hokage office. “You’re a sensor?”

Mito tapped the Uzumaki crest tattoo on her cheekbone, not looking up from the paperwork.

“Shit. I should have figured.” Toka approached the desk. “Anyway, can I speak with you,” she gestured to Madara, who was doing a sudoku, “ _privately_?”

Mito looked up. And straight into Toka’s eyes. Mito’s black eyes were scary. Dark and placid on the surface, but hiding something red and angry behind them. “I’m sorry, Ms. Senju…”

“Toka.”

“Ms. Senju Toka, you don’t have an appointment. If you’d like to speak to the acting Hokage, you’ll have to make an appointment with his secretary.” _Masculine pronouns?_ Toka thought to herself, marveling at Mito. _Bold move_.

At the word secretary, Madara’s ears perked up. He set down his sudoku, stood, and approached the desk. “Ms. Toka, what would you like to discuss with Master Hokage?”

Toka couldn’t believe the man who had tamed the nine-tailed demon fox, the man who had almost killed her by throwing her off a cliff, was addressing her with an honorific and making appointments. She shook the thought out of her head. “I wanted to discuss a pressing matter within the Senju clan, for Senju ears only.”

“I see,” Madara replied. “Would you be able to return in, say, an hour and a half?”

“Sure, but why?”

“Master Hokage is busy until then.” Madara ushered Toka out the door.

Once outside, she asked, “with who?”

Madara smiled at her. “With me,” he stated and slammed the door.

 

Toka’s heart raced in her chest. Was he about to kill Mito? Extract the nine-tails and destroy the village? What if he sent the fox after Hashirama and killed the Mizukage too, plunging the fragile peace they’d built into chaos? She hurried back to her vantage point, making sure to hide both her visual presence and her chakra using genjutsu. She saw Mito, still sitting at her desk, her hands clutching the table and her head back in… agony? Saw Madara’s pale fingers close on her throat, and then saw him… oh. This isn’t murder. This is something somehow much worse. This is sex.

 

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_After watching Madara and Mito going at it on the Hokage desk for longer than she’d like to admit, Toka is fairly convinced that the Uchiha are not going to become a threat any time soon. She takes her appointment with Mito anyway, but spends the whole meeting thinking about Mito’s breasts and stammering nonsense. For the next two days, she bides her time, sneaking peeks at the acting Hokage, devising plans to seduce her. Hashirama and Madara stripped her of her job, she would strip them of their girlfriend as payback._

_Of course, she had to make an appointment first. Which she does—an appointment for dinner at a dimly-lit gourmet seafood joint near the Hokage’s office. She gussies herself up for the date, painting her lips black and her eyelids smoky, putting her hair up into a fabulous topknot complete with flowers and a shimmering ribbon. She wears a sleeveless, deep-cut green gown that compliments her skin tone and shows off her muscular arms and busted-up clavicle, not to mention her cleavage. A slit in the skirt displays her chiseled thighs and the soft reddish hair coating her calves. She looks stunning. She shows up fifteen minutes early to the restaurant and dusts the table with rose petals. No one’s ever going to say that Senju Toka didn’t give it her all._

 

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“Ms. Senju,” Mito greeted Toka, nodding appreciatively at the flowers. “I was waiting for you to do this.”

“Wh-what do you mean??” Toka asked, too loudly. She was already sweating.

Mito smiled, her glossy lips sparkling in the candlelight. “Oh, I don’t know, nothing. I take it back,” she teased.

“I took the liberty of ordering some sake, Mistress Hokage,” Toka managed with a wavering voice.

“Master Hokage, please.”

The masculine pronouns again. “I’m s-sorrry, Master Hokage,” she repeated.

“Thank you, Ms. Toka. I am looking forward to it.”

As if to save her, the waiter appeared at just that moment to set down two flasks of warm sake and two small cups.

“Thank you,” whispered Toka.

Mito sipped her sake in silence, allowing Toka to study her face. In the candlelight, her eyes seemed to glow red.

“The scars on your face,” Toka blurted. “What are they from?”

“My clan has practices that yours might find barbaric,” Mito offered as an explanation.

“Are the tattoos one of them?” Toka regretted it the second she asked. She plead herself to _shut up, shut up, shut up_.

Luckily, Mito seemed amused. “No, they’re just a hobby I picked up from an old lover, a sailor. They like to pick up tattoos to show how they’ve traveled the world. I let my lover give me this one,” she showed Toka an elaborate image of a fish skeleton on the inside of her right thigh, “and I was hooked. I did the one on my face myself!”

There was a question on the tip of Toka’s tongue, but she didn’t want to ask it. Her face got red, her palms got sweaty. She peeked at the inside of Mito’s soft pale thigh and couldn’t stop herself. “Was this sailor a man or a woman?”

Mito was about to answer when Tobirama ran into the restaurant, toppling over a waiter and spilling fish all over the floor in his haste. “Bad news!!!” He announced between heaving breaths. “The Mizukage… didn’t want to pay for the three-tails. Meeting was a setup. Hokage in danger. I think we... accidentally started a war.”

Mito jumped up from the table without so much as a glance at Toka. She followed Tobirama out of the building, the red-and-white haori reading “first Hokage” billowing out behind her majestically.


	6. Mikoto

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_Senju Mikoto has been told the story of her birth a hundred times. Her parents say she was conceived in Water County. Her father had been fighting a battle against the Mizukage when he fumbled the three-tails. The demon broke loose and attacked both men indiscriminately, with intent to kill. Luckily, her mom says (Her dad says he never once doubted this would happen), her uncle reached her mother in time and the two of them rushed to save her father. Her mother sealed the three-tails on sight, into one of the Mizukage’s servants. This didn’t end the fight, and the Mizukage redoubled his efforts to kill her father, now using the three-tails as a deadly weapon. Her mom was able to save her father just at the last minute, when she took on the shroud of the nine-tails and leveled the battlefield with a single tailed beast bomb. After that, the story goes, her parents were so grateful to be alive they made love on the spot and nine months later, Mikoto was born safely in the village._

_Now Mikoto is twenty-two and the proud mother of a newborn baby. She is tall, with broad shoulders and light skin. Her hair is coarse and wavy, and a shade darker red than her mother’s. She wears it cropped close around her ears. Her eyes are dark honey-brown like her father’s, and she takes after him in temperament too, boisterous and funny._

 

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The whole family is present at the Senju villa when it is time for Mikoto to give birth. Hashirama, Madara, and Tobirama stand to the side while Mito and Konohamiko deliver the baby. When time comes, Mito catches it and Konohamiko clips the umbilical cord. Then, Mito infuses just a bit of chakra into the babe to make sure it is breathing. Once she confirms that it is, she passes it up into Mikoto’s arms.

“It’s a girl!” Mito tells her daughter.

Mikoto cries in pain and happiness. She wishes her husband, a shinobi of the Senju clan, could be here. Alas, he is out on an important mission.

After washing her hands, Mito clutches Hashirama and Madara to her in a tight hug. “We’re grandparents!” she whispers, tears streaming down her face. She presses her wet cheeks against theirs, muttering “I can’t believe we’re grandparents…”

Tobirama grunts and turns away. He and Konohamiko do not embrace. Their relationship is purely professional. Instead, Konohamiko walks over to Mikoto’s side, embracing her and petting the baby.

“My husband and I decided that if it were a girl, we would name it Tsunade. And she is. Isn’t she wonderful? I introduce you all to… Senju Tsunade!” Mikoto announced, rocking the baby back and forth in her arms.

“Now, darling, you probably need to sleep,” Mito insisted, taking the baby away from its mother. “I’ll take care of Tsunade while you make sure to get your rest.”

Mikoto feebly protested, but let her mom take the baby away. The family filed out of the room… all except Konohamiko.

“You still haven’t told him?” Mikoto asked her sister-in-law, frowning.

“I just haven’t found the right time.” Konohamiko bit her lip.

Mikoto took Konohamiko’s hands in hers. “There’s not going to be a right time.”

“Why are you so worried about me telling him anyway?” whined Konohamiko. “Maybe this’ll all just blow over…”

“I hope it doesn’t,” Mikoto replied with a wink.

 

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_Mikoto took her rest, and Konohamiko began to get sick. Two weeks later, Mikoto invited the whole family over for dinner, to meet the baby Tsunade. Seated around the table were Madara, Hashirama, and Mito, in their own little world as always. Across from Mito sat Mikoto, with Tsunade on her lap. Konohamiko sat between Mikoto and her husband Tobirama._

 

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“I’d like to make a toast to all of you, to thank you for your support of me and Tsunade while my husband has been away,” Mikoto announced, standing at the head of the table.

Tsunade gurgled in Mito’s arms when she heard her name.

“Mom and Dad, thank you for watching the baby and making sure I’ve been healthy and happy. Uncle Tobirama, thank you for covering Hashirama’s duties at the capital so he could help at home. Uncle Madara, thanks for hunting down fresh meat and veggies for my meals, and for cooking only the finest sunny-side up eggs. And Auntie Konohamiko…” Mikoto said the last name in an odd tone of voice. She was holding back a giggle. “Oh, Auntie Kono, I just know I couldn’t have done any of this without you. Did you, maybe… have something to say?” She winked at her.

The family watched with curiosity as Konohamiko rose from her seat. Her face was flushed bright red, and she shuddered a little bit. “I…” she began, looking to Mikoto for support.

Mikoto smiled back at her.

“I… well… I’m pregnant,” Konohamiko admitted shakily.

At which all the color dropped from Mikoto’s face.

No one else at the table noticed the strange exchange between the two women, because they were too busy congratulating Tobirama. Hashirama actually jumped out of his chair and was hugging his grumpy brother from behind, and Madara was giving Tobirama a pep talk. Mito put Tsunade in Tobirama’s lap and cooed about how he was going to be a great father.

“Thanks. Thanks. Thanks,” Tobirama said curtly, showing no emotion. Konohamiko could sense her husband’s tenseness from where she sat next to him, somehow feeling miles away. “Darling” Tobirama enunciated, now addressing her with uncomfortable formality, “I Thought We Decided Not To Tell Anyone Yet. Could I Speak With You Alone?”

Hashirama, Madara, and Mito just laughed at this, but collected Tsunade and went back to their seats, joking among themselves about Tobirama this and Konohamiko that.

Konohamiko stole a last desperate, watery glance at Mikoto before following her husband out of the room.

Mikoto stared at the empty seat where Konohamiko had been, her eyes wide open. She couldn’t even blink until her eyes started to burn with the dry lack of tears. The plates on the table, still dirty with leftovers, began to blur. So she finally closed her eyes. And when she opened them, the whole world looked red.

 

“Dad— Mom— Uncle Madara—” Mikoto stammered, feeling the chakra drain from her body as she spoke. She watched the three of them for a moment.

“Shit. Shitshitshitshitshitshitshit,” Hashirama swore.

“I told you,” Mito rolled her eyes, elbowing her husband. She didn’t look the least bit surprised.

Madara, on the other hand, looked just as uptight as Hashirama, but in a more appraising way. He looked up and down Mikoto, and she could feel him taking in every detail of her body.

“—what’s going on?” She begged.

“It’s a long story?” Hashirama offered, at the same time as Madara asked “Can’t you figure it out?”

Mito, at least, had the sense to walk over to her daughter and hand her her baby Tsunade. “Honey,” she said in a soothing voice, running her hand over Mikoto’s shoulder, “Let’s go discuss this over tea, in the sitting room.”

 

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_And so, Mikoto learned that her dad wasn’t her father and that she was evidently half-Uchiha. She learned about Hashirama’s childhood love and his arranged marriage and his ultimate founding of the village just as a way to get back with his old boyfriend. Of course, the hardest part for Mikoto to get her head around was that not only did her parents have sex, they had… a lot of different kinds of sex. She didn’t want to hear about it, but Madara and Mito kept offering details anyway. It was an awkward conversation._

 

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“… but this joker here couldn’t give a proper blowjob to save his life, so your mother had to teach him!” Madara said, his usually-sullen face lighting up with laughter.

“Please stop,” Mikoto begged. “I’m your _daughter_ and I’m asking you, please.”

“Oh come on, it’s not that big of a deal,” Madara responded dismissively.

“No, it really is. It’s really gross. Please.”

“Fine, fine,” he conceded, waving a gloved hand. “Suit yourself, _boring_.”

“Hey! I’m not boring!”

“No, maybe you’re not…” considered Madara. “So, what upset you so much at dinner tonight?”

“What? Nothing,” Mikoto defended.

“Something about Tobirama or Konohamiko,” offered Hashirama unhelpfully.

“Huh? No, I’m totally happy for them,” she lied.

Madara raised his eyebrows. “So, no you’re not.”

“How do you know?”

“The Sharingan only awakens when you experience loss, trauma. A bond being broken. So, something at dinner broke a bond for you,” he explained.

Hashirama’s eyes widened. “You weren’t fucking my brother, were you?”

“No? EEW! What is wrong with you, dad?”

Hashirama exhaled, apparently genuinely relieved.

“You’re gross.” And then: “I was fucking Konohamiko.”

“Honey, she’s totally too old for you!” worried Hashirama, while Madara just laughed.

“I guess cheating runs in the goddamn family,” Madara jabbed.

“Hey! Careful, she’s technically _your_ family too,” Mito jabbed back.

“I guess you’re the one that started it.”

“Hell no, it was Hashirama all those years ago”

“It’s the goddamn Uzumaki blood”

“The Uchiha aint no honest bunch either, just ask Izuna!”

“Don’t bring my brother into this…”

As the three fell back into bickering, they didn’t notice Mikoto start to cry. She didn’t know how to deactivate her Sharingan. She didn’t understand what was going on with her parents, and she couldn’t believe Tobirama had touched her girlfriend. She was scared and angry and confused all at once, and no one was giving her satisfactory answers.

“Shut up! All of you!” she finally bellowed. She looked at each of them in turn with her glowing red eyes. And Hashirama, Madara, and Mito knew she was serious. “I’m assuming you’ll want to sweep this under the rug.”

Her three parents nodded their heads solemnly.

“Which means, _Uncle_ Madara, that you need to teach me how to get whatever is going on here,” she gestured to her eyes, “under control.”

“Of course,” Madara agreed.

“And dad, or whatever…”

“If you’re willing, I’d still like to be called your dad,” Hashirama sighed.

“I don’t know yet,” admitted Mikoto. “Hashirama, make up excuses for me. I don’t want to see Tobirama again. Not for a long time.” Mikoto felt a bolt of chakra crack through her brain. She held her forehead, feeling like her skull was about to split in half. A hateful chakra began to infuse in her heart where she hadn’t ever felt something like that before. She looked at her fake-dad, sharingans glowing brightly. “Not for a _long, long_ time.”


End file.
